


All Things Great and Small

by madame_d



Series: Lab!Sync [3]
Category: Popslash
Genre: AJ is a flirt, AU, Bassez Day 2005, Jane Carter is an awful parent, Justin is sexually confused, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-16
Updated: 2005-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:55:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_d/pseuds/madame_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU wherein our boys work in a research lab, and Joey is <i>still</i> featured only minorly, and Justin is <i>still</i> everyone's bitch, and a confused one at that.  Not suitable for children under 18 and BSB haters. Also, contains Jane Carter bashing, so there's that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Things Great and Small

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **Bassez Day** 2005.

The phone is ringing off the hook when Lance comes back to the lab after having deposited his water bottle in the fridge. He looks over at JC, who's bent over the bench, and JC gives him an apologetic shrug. Not that he's that busy, but JC hates phones the way Lance hates tomatoes. 

Lance glances at the display screen and heads for the door. The call is from the external intercom; it's easier to just go see who's out there. 

He pushes the door open. 

The guy outside is lean and about Lance's height. He's dressed all in black: black beanie that doesn't cover up his silver hoop earrings, black long-sleeved t-shirt underneath a black short-sleeved T-shirt with Led Zeppelin decal on it, black pants and black Docs. Even the fashionably rectangular frame of his glasses is black. When he extends his hand in greeting, Lance notices the black-painted fingernails, and silver rings that draw attention to the tattoos on two of the phalanges. He wonders if the guy spray-paints his lab coat black, as well. Where the sleeve had ridden up, Lance can see a large collection of slim black bracelets looped around the guy's wrist. He wonders if the guy shops at the same store as JC. 

"Hi. AJ McLean." His voice is raspy and husky, like maybe he's a smoker or got a cold. 

"Hello," Lance says cautiously, "I'm Lance. May I help you?" 

"I'm looking for Dr. Kirkpatrick or –" the guy, AJ, looks down at the bit of paper in his left hand, "– or Dr. _Chaysess_. I'm expected." 

Lance smothers a giggle. "Chris Kirkpatrick is in a conference call right now but if he expects you, he should be done very soon. JC Chasez," Lance absolutely doesn't say JC's last name with emphasis, nope, not at all, "is in the lab, and I can introduce you." 

"Thanks." When Lance moves away from the door, AJ slips past him and waits for Lance to lead the way. 

"By the way, who are you and why are you here?" 

AJ glances at him, "Oh, nobody said anything? I'm Dr. Richardson's new tech person. I started last week. And he wanted me to get animal training from you guys, because he wants to start with in-vivo work but none of them knows what they're doing. And I majored in vet sciences in college. Well, at one point, anyway." 

"Which is why Kevin sent you to Chris and JC, since they're the only MDs in the house," Lance concludes. 

JC isn't in the lab any more, and Lance doubles back to their office, muttering about maybe finding him there. When they walk past Chris's office, Dani calls out his name, so they stop in the doorway. 

"Lance, is that Mr. McLean with you? Chris should be done any moment now, I heard him muttering 'You too' and 'Good bye,' so if you want to deposit Mr. McLean into this very comfortable chair, I could give him coffee while he waits." 

Lance looks over his shoulder at AJ. "That okay with you?" AJ is nodding already. There are symmetrical tattoos on either side of his neck that Lance hadn't noticed before. AJ pulls up his too-long sleeves, and there's a burst of colour on the inside of his wrist that looks like it might be another tattoo. Curious character. 

Lance leaves AJ in Chris's office and heads back for his desk, bumping into Nick in the doorway. 

"There's a hot guy in your boyfriend's office," Lance teases. 

"Oh yeah?" Nick tries for nonchalant, but he still sounds suspicious. 

"Mmmm," Lance nods. "Short, dark and handsome. All in black and tattooed. Pretty eyes, too. You'll like him." 

Nick mutters something that sounds like, 'I hate you,' but really, can't possibly be it, and walks away, ostensibly to barge into Chris's office under some flimsy excuse. Lance snorts and rolls his eyes; AJ is definitely Nick's type and not Chris's. 

Lance sits down at his desk in front of his laptop, intent on shuffling through all the data he's collected so far in preparation for his upcoming research update. He still has an insane amount of statistical analysis to do but he'd spent almost the entire afternoon yesterday scanning Western and electrophoresis films so, at least the labour-intensive part of the prep is done. 

JC lopes into the room and sits on Lance's desk, wiggling around to get comfortable and moving Lance's computer five inches to the side in the process. 

"Yes?" Lance asks with a smile, looking up at him. 

"I missed you this morning. Did you go for a run?" 

Lance nods. "You'd left for work already when I got back." 

"Bad boy," JC mutters. "I was hoping for some nookie." 

Lance bursts out laughing. "You're insatiable. How can you even sit after last night?" 

JC shrugs sheepishly. "So," he says, very unsubtly changing topics, "a curious character in Chris's office?" 

"Oooooooh, you've checked out the mysterious Mr. McLean?" Lance teases. "And wait, Chris isn't off the phone yet?" 

"Oh, he is," JC says to assure Lance, "but I simply had to get that thing from Chris. So, I had to go into his office." 

"That thing?" Lance arches an eyebrow. "What thing?" 

"That thing. From the place. That was over in there," JC says seriously, then dissolves into giggles. 

"Aaaah, that thing," Lance nods with understanding. "And? What did you think?" 

"Well, he said my name correctly," JC informs him, sounding a little confused. 

"Only because he heard me say it. So don't be too impressed," Lance assures him, patting JC's knee. He considers propping himself up on JC's lap, since he's sitting so conveniently on the desk but that would put Lance nose to dick with JC's crotch and maybe they shouldn't take such chances at work; after all, knowing them, they wouldn't be able to stop. 

He leaves his hand just above JC's knee and is rewarded by a sweet, squinch-eyed smile. 

"It's. Strange. He. AJ, he's strange." JC flaps his arms around to emphasize his point. "He doesn't look like someone who'd be working in a lab, right? And I don't mean the tattoos or the clothes. Actually, I do. But, what, he couldn't find a gig as a DJ or failed auditions to Good Charlotte? I know, I know, I'm judging the book by its cover, but he's –" 

"He's a mystery," Lance agrees. 

"And he's older than you but he'd just graduated college," JC concludes. 

"But that doesn't mean anything, C. Maybe he didn't have money to go to college and had to go part-time while working. Or maybe he worked after finishing high school to earn money to afford college. Or any other number of scenarios." 

JC nods thoughtfully, then proclaims, "I like him, though. There's an interesting vibe around him. Like, he'd be bouncing with nervous energy, like Chris sometimes does, but he keeps his inner core in this forceful field of Zen." 

Lance blinks. Right. Zen and inner cores and vibes. 

JC hops off the desk. "Egh, I have work to do. We got that Taqman machine two days ago, and Chris told me and Nick to set it up so that we could start using it. Yay." 

"But Taqman is better for some things than LightCycler, right?" 

JC nods. "Less work and wasted time for our peons, anyway." 

As JC heads out of the room, Lance calls after him, "I'm telling Justin you called him a peon!" 

*** 

When Chris stalks into the lab, Justin is digging, bare-handed, in the -80ºC freezer. He keeps swearing every time he freeze-burns his hands, which is about every half-second or so, but doesn't get gloves. 

"What's wrong with you?" Chris demands, and Justin starts. 

"Huh?" 

"Cold. Freezer. We have gloves for that. I don't mean latex stuff, I mean the special thermal ones. By the sink." 

"They're huge, though, I can't do delicate stuff in them." 

Chris raises his eyebrow, "There's something delicate about pulling a few boxes from the racks? Get the boxes first, close the door, take out your samples, put the boxes back." 

"Sure, Chris. Uh. Did you...?" Justin trails off and Chris shrugs mentally. If the kid gets frost-bite... well, Chris tried. 

"Yes, I did. Have you seen JC?" Chris asks. 

"Dark room," Justin says, pulling out yet another box and plucking a few tubes from it. They stick to his fingertips and he wiggles his fingers to dislodge them. 

"Lance?" 

"Dark room," Justin says without lifting his head, a smile in his voice. 

"Damn lovebirds, making out in small dark places," Chris mutters. "Nick?" He asks with desperation. 

Justin looks up at him and bursts out laughing. "Dark room," he says, eyes sparkling. 

Chris's jaw drops. "They decided to try out a threesome and have seduced my boyfriend?" he exclaims. He's joking, of course, but judging by Justin's reaction, Justin's totally buying it, hook, line and sinker. 

"Uh. I don't think... I mean... They wouldn't... No, I mean, Nick was developing film, and the developer ate it, so JC and Lance went over there to take the machine apart, remove the stuck film, and make it work again," Justin explains. His voice is pleading with Chris to understand that the guys wouldn't do that, that Nick isn't doing anything wrong. 

"Yeah. Thanks. I figured," Chris says dryly. 

Justin blushes a fiery red and drops his gaze back to the tubes. 

"But hey, in their absence, you'll do. You busy? Come with me," Chris snaps his fingers at Justin and sails out of the lab, knowing that the kid will follow. 

As soon as Justin falls in step, Chris quickly explains, "AJ anesthetized a mouse, but it takes a few minutes for it to work and in the meantime, the mouse had scampered off because AJ wasn't holding it tightly enough, so now we're looking for a mouse on the loose in the surgical suite." 

Justin says, "But wouldn't it be easier to wait until it falls asleep?" 

"Sure. We're hoping that by the time it falls asleep, we'll know where to look. Mice are tricky; they can crawl under the doors and flatten their spines. We want to find it before it dies and stinks up the place. It needs to be on a ventilator when anesthetized, for that particular procedure." 

When they get back, AJ's pacing the length of the small room, kicking at the floor from time to time. He looks obviously upset at having dropped the mouse. 

"I brought help!" Chris announces cheerfully, and adds, "Hey, don't sweat it. We'll find it. You aren't the first one to drop a mouse; you won't be last. It's not tragic. The worst that can happen is we don't find it now but we will eventually when someone smells it." 

AJ cracks a smile, but he looks like it hurts. 

Justin pipes in brightly, "Do we know anyone with a cat? It could help us find the mouse." AJ snorts, almost-amused, and Justin smiles, which gets him a smile from AJ, in return. AJ looks light-years younger, not to mention dorkier, when he smiles. 

Chris looks at one, then the other, then decides not to interfere because really, that? Doesn't quite fit into his head. And also, he'd thought Timberlake was straight. 

*** 

AJ is supposed to spend only a couple of days with them but Kevin is in the throes of writing a manuscript and just wants AJ out of his hair until everything is done and mailed, so AJ spends the entire week with them. They're all curious about him, because AJ isn't really talking about himself much, but he fits in, somehow, cracking jokes with Justin, and bonding with Nick once they discover a mutual love of rock music, and he wins Chris's respect by being a quick student with the animals and understanding JC-speak better than Chris can. 

One day, Lance wanders outside in search of JC and finds himself in a cloud of cigarette smoke as soon as he exits the door. Batting at it ineffectively and trying not to breathe, Lance finally finds the villains, who are having a ring-blowing competition. 

Lance glowers at AJ and Nick both and growls through gritted teeth, "Would you mind killing yourselves a little further away from the door? Some of us would prefer not to die from second-hand smoke." 

Nick pulls the cigarette away from his mouth, stubbing it out on the concrete wall behind him, blows the smoke away from Lance and says, "There's no need to be hypocritical. I've seen _you_ smoke." 

"It was in the throes of deep emotional trauma, Nickolas! I'd just broken up with my boyfriend. I was _upset_!" That, Lance is convinced, is completely different from regular smoking. 

AJ tries to play peacemaker, stubbing out his cigarette even though it's only half-smoked, and tossing it away with an easy flick of the wrist. "Is everything okay? Can we help you with anything?" Not at all subtle but Lance gives him points for trying. 

"Have you seen JC?" 

Nick says, "Yeah, he's gone to the administrative offices; just passed by here a few minutes ago." 

"Thanks," Lance says. As he turns away to go back into the building, he sees AJ tapping out a fresh cigarette from the pack. It's a filthy habit but Lance can admit, deep down, that AJ does look awfully good while doing it. Lance shrugs mentally and swipes his card to get back inside. 

On a Thursday afternoon, AJ declines an invitation for their weekly outing to The Barstool. He says simply that he doesn't drink anymore. But on Friday, AJ walks into Histology where Lance is teaching Justin how to do immunohistochemistry after having learnt that Justin still doesn't know how, and waits until they notice him. 

Lance lifts his head, "Hey, AJ! And hey, Nick," he adds, seeing Nick come into the room as well. "Who's first?" 

Nick shrugs, "I have nothing to do; I just came to distract you." 

AJ says, "I was wondering if any of you wanted to go to a club tonight? I don't do bars, but clubs are okay. Dance, watch some honeys, maybe hook up?" He executes a lewd shimmy with his hips and waggles his eyebrows at Nick. 

Nick flushes and says, "I uh..." 

Justin cracks up and says, "He can't, his b- " but he shuts up when Lance throws him a death glare. If Nick doesn't feel comfortable admitting to a boyfriend, it's not Justin's place to say anything. 

Lance smoothly transitions, "His brother is staying with Nick, so..." 

AJ nods with understanding, "Oh. You then?" 

Lance smiles, "My boyfriend probably wouldn't approve of me hooking up with uh, 'the honeys'." 

AJ blinks and a slow smile, sharp and predatory, spreads across his face. Lance is suddenly scared for Nick. AJ says, "Hey, boys or girls, it's all good. There's a nice place down on Temple Street." 

Lance says slyly, "You know, I'm afraid we have plans for tonight already but why don't you take Justin? He's flying solo and still in the process of self-discovery." 

Lance takes Nick by the arm and pulls him out of the lab a millisecond before Justin processes what he'd said and starts sputtering. Lance exchanges a mischievous grin Nick outside the door, and they hurry away from Histology so that Justin wouldn't hear their helpless laughter. 

A few days later, while Lance is (still) analyzing data on his laptop, a cool hand drops to the back of his neck, two knuckles digging in deliciously on either side of the vertebrae. Lance wonders what he'd done to deserve such a wonderful, telepathic boyfriend, mentally praises JC's manual skills, and forces his neck muscles to relax. 

"Do that again and I'm yours forever," Lance mutters and hears low laughter in reply. In fact, too low to be JC. Lance jerks his head up and looks over his shoulder. Sure enough, AJ is standing behind him, smirking smugly, his knuckles still rubbing at the knotted muscles at the base of Lance's neck. 

"What are you doing, intimately touching random men you aren't involved with?" Lance demands, albeit with a smile. His voice isn't shaking, not at all. 

AJ shrugs and adds another hand, and Lance tries not to melt into the floor. "I was raised to think that 'personal space' is a four-letter word. If it's bugging you, or you're worried about the boyfriend, or whatever, I can stop." 

Lance almost whimpers in protest. "Don't stop," he gasps out once the pain of a dissolving tension knot goes away. AJ has magical hands. Lance will apologise to JC, if needed, later. After he's had his fill of the free massage. 

*** 

Chris tries to spend as much time as he can in the lab, what with various meetings approaching and everyone needing his input on their experiments, presentations or manuscripts. He finds it hard to concentrate at work, however, when he's in the middle of a complicated soon-to-be-war with one Jane Carter, who just happens to be his lover's mother. 

Ever since Aaron's fight with Jane, Aaron's been staying with Chris and Nick. As soon as Joey got back in town, Nick gave up bachelor life for good and moved into Chris's condo. He says it's because he wants to be close to Aaron, but they all know better. Aaron is adamant about not wanting to go back to Jane, and Nick is adamant about not letting Aaron go even if he wanted to so, Chris is adamant about making sure Nick gets what he wants. That means finding a lawyer with a quick and painless resolution to the problem. 

Lance doesn't know any lawyers, and neither does Dani, which she admits with eyes full of sympathy and compassion. Surprisingly, once JC clues in that they need one, he says in a startled voice, "Oh. Lawyer. I know one. A buddy of mine went to law school. Though. He used to work with the social services. Is that a problem? He's in private practice now." 

Chris resists the impulse to grab JC and kiss him gratefully smack on the mouth. Instead, he swallows, clasps JC's wrist, says a hoarse thanks, and leaves for his office, remembering only at the last moment to remind JC to write down the number. 

The lawyer's name is Tony Lucca, and he sounds young and charming on the phone, and incredibly sympathetic to Chris's cause. Chris doesn't want to drag Aaron into the negotiations right away; even though the kid's seventeen, there are still 'adult' issues that he just doesn't need to be involved in, so Chris and Nick make an appointment to come see Tony towards the end of his day. The first thing Chris asks Tony, after the greetings and pleasantries are out of the way, is how much he costs. 

Tony laughs, "You will have to pay all court-associated fees, if it comes to them. Don't worry about me; I owe C a huge favour. Huge." He raises an eyebrow and smirks. Chris lets it be. 

They sit in Tony's office while Nick tries to explain what happened between Jane and Aaron in a coherent manner. He doesn't really succeed, because when Nick's emotional, he loses articulation and has to stop, drink some water, and try again and again. 

"And, like, she called him names, which is just not okay because he's only seventeen!" Nick's voice rises and Chris puts a hand on his thigh in an effort to calm him. 

"Can you tell me what the argument was about?" Tony asks. 

"At that point, I don't think either of them even knew. It was Ja- her trying to make Aaron do whatever she wanted and him just wanting to be a normal kid, you know?" 

"At any point during that conversation, did your mother blame you for anything? Were you the reason of the argument? Because we are trying to get her to let Aaron stay with you; probably not going to help our case if she resents you for being a bad influence on him," Tony says. 

"I'm sure that I was because she always blames me for everything, whatever's, like, wrong with Aaron or whatever. But it's been all right; I mean, she knows he's staying with me and she, like, doesn't mind or anything. She called a few times, trying to talk to him but he won't talk to her any more." Nick reaches for his water bottle and chugs half of it down. His hand shakes almost imperceptibly when he puts it down. 

Tony says, "What about your father?" and Nick starts. 

Chris gives himself a mental slap. When Nick left home for college, he disassociated himself completely from both parents, but his younger siblings stayed close to their father even after their parents had gotten divorced. For Nick, his father's been out of the picture for too long to be considered, but they still should've thought of him. 

"My dad?" Nick asks with confusion. 

"Yes, your father? You know, you have one? You know him? You see him? Is he Aaron's, as well?" 

"Oh. Yeah! Sorry. I uh... I'm not really talking to either one of my parents; too much stuff between us, so when I left for college, I didn't really look back. But yeah, him and Aaron are cool; they hang out and stuff." 

"Okay then," Tony closes his notepad and Nick looks at Chris with confusion. Chris returns the look and stares at Tony. 

Tony explains, "I'm trying to understand why I'm having this conversation with you and not your father. It would it be easier for _him_ to get Aaron because he's the parent. And also, you're a young guy; you shouldn't be saddled down with raising a younger brother, even if you want to. That's a parent's responsibility, not a sibling's." 

Nick says, "But. When they got divorced, there was some stuff. I'm not even sure if they have joint custody." 

Tony shrugs, unconcerned, "This doesn't have to be your problem unless absolutely necessary. Okay? I'll stay in touch. Give me your father's contact info." 

Tony promises to report back on his first meeting with Bob, but mostly, he's optimistic, and not just because Nick is. Before Tony leaves, though, Chris has to ask. Because he's a worrier by nature and because he really, genuinely likes Aaron and thinks he has a chance to grow up a decent human being, with great people like Nick as role models. 

So, Chris says, "If worse came to worst. And nothing, God forbid, goes well with Bob. What do we do?" 

Tony says, "Let me look at the files and documents. Maybe minor emancipation will be easier in this case than guardianship. Then we won't have to prove that Nick is worthy, just that Jane is unfit. You have enough money to make the 'gay thing' go away, if you're worried about that; you are in a committed, stable relationship, which is a good influence on any young child's upbringing." Tony shrugs. "And, before I forget, and this is something that might not even be important, but. Aaron goes to a charter school?" 

Nick's nodding already, so proud of his brother, "Yeah man, it's this new experimental school with the emphasis on arts, performing and otherwise. He only got in his sophomore year, so the past year and whatever, it's been a really long commute for him, because nobody can give him a ride there. So he takes the train and then the bus to get there and all, about an hour-and-a-half each way, he said, I think. But to hear him speak of it, it's totally worth it." 

Tony nods, jotting down notes on his pad again. "And now?" 

"Oh, he's been using my car, it's only about a thirty-minute drive from Chris's place to the school. Are you... can you use that as an argument for him to stay here?" 

Tony looks up, "Don't know yet. What about your dad?" 

Nick scrunches up his nose and looks at Chris, raising his eyebrows. Chris bites his lip so as not to laugh at the cute face his boyfriend's making. Chris says, "A guesstimate, but about forty, forty-five minutes by car?" 

Tony closes his notepad and stands up, smiling, "Perfect. Did I allay your fears? I'll stay in touch, I promise, and I'll fit you in for another meeting as soon as I talk with Robert." 

"Robert!" Nick mouths at Chris behind Tony's back and Chris smiles. 

They shake hands and see themselves out of Tony's office, and Chris tells himself to be patient while they wait to hear from him. 

Tony calls only two days later. "The meeting with Robert went great. I still need to meet with Jane and her lawyer, if she has any and we'll go from there. I'll stay in touch." That's all they have for now, and it has to be enough. 

*** 

Lance calls his mom at least once a week. They are close, because he's true Southern mama's boy, and while he doesn't share all the details, he is too afraid not to keep his mama updated. When he first told her that he and JC were getting back together, his mom asked if JC was the boy who'd broken Lance's heart. When Lance confirmed that it was, she said, "I hope you know what you're doing. I just want you to be happy." 

Lance tries to never call her when JC'd done something to annoy, frustrate or upset him; it's as if he needs to prove to his mama that he's made the right choice; that JC makes him happy. 

Well, not right now, though. JC had called from the lab at 4:30 and said he had a few loose ends to finish up but he would come by at six at the latest. This time around, they're trying to take it slow, but that still means that they spend most of the week, though not all, at each other's houses. 

That was two hours ago. During those two hours, Lance tries the lab phone to no avail; nobody picks up but that's not surprising – answering the phone while in the middle of an experiment isn't ever really worth it, and sometimes, is simply impossible. JC's cell goes straight to voicemail. Lance would be worried except he knows that JC and phones make for a poor combination. 

Finally, at 7:15, Lance's phone rings. Lance is almost tempted to screen it, because he's certain it's JC. He picks up right before the answering machine clicks on. 

"Hi, it's me. I'm sorry; I got a little carried away." 

"Hi, JC," Lance replies and tries not to let weariness and annoyance seep into his voice. He knows JC gets carried away, gets so involved with whatever it is he's doing – research, reading, whatever – that he loses track of time. For some reason, Lance keeps hoping that he's more important than all of that, that he can't be forgotten about. "What are you up to?" 

"I just need a little more time? I'm almost done. I'll call when I'm on my way? Love you." 

Lance murmurs his 'love you' and hangs up. Then, he blows out the candles and starts cleaning up the table. By the time JC comes home, the desire to have a nice candle-lit romantic dinner will be long gone. Lance transfers food into Tupperware and sticks everything into the fridge. JC can have some frozen pizza, if he's hungry. Sure, he could reheat the dinner Lance just put away, but Lance really isn't in the mood to see the sad remains of his romantic attempt come back to haunt him from the dinner table. 

Sometimes, Lance gets frustrated enough to wonder why he bothers. But then, as he watches JC sleep, or when they go to a museum and JC, with much arm flailing, explains why he likes modern art (which Lance hates), or during a million other little moments, Lance realises that it's all worth it and he wouldn't change it for the world. 

*** 

It's the weekend and it's early enough that Aaron is still asleep. It's been two months since he'd come to stay with Chris and Nick. During this time, Tony's been meeting with Robert, Jane and Jane's lawyer. They're not headed to court yet, just trying to figure things out among themselves, come to a consensus. Jane, predictably, wants to have none of it. Tony's plan is to make Jane a deal: if she lets Aaron decide where he wants to stay, they won't file negligence and abuse charges against her. 

Besides Aaron, who was a witness and a victim, Tony's lined up two witnesses – neighbours who couldn't help but hear Jane's verbal abuse and shouted rants that Aaron had been subjected to. Jane keeps saying that if it weren't for Nick, she and Aaron would still be fine. Tony asserts that it's highly debatable. For now, Aaron stays with Nick and Chris; he says it's because he's been missing his brother but Chris knows that having his own car and being much closer to the school are major factors in his decision, as well. 

Chris crawls out of bed as soon as he sees Nick's bare ass disappearing behind the bathroom door, and follows it like it's a homing beacon. They don't shower together frequently; more often than not, one or the other of them has to be at work early. Sometimes, Nick has stuff to do before work and leaves even before Chris is up; other times, Chris is working hard on the next manuscript or grant proposal and leaves for work while Nick is still sleeping. 

The weekends, however, are theirs. Nick has a rather inexplicable love of sex in the shower and though Chris tries explaining, over and over again, that he's too old for it and could break a hip contorting himself in the smallish bathtub, Nick just laughs at him and whispers hotly in his ear, "I will catch you if you fall." How's Chris supposed to resist that? 

Chris joins Nick under the hot spray and scrubs shampoo through his hair, ducking his head under the water to rinse. He feels Nick's fingers on his scalp, helping get shampoo out. When Chris opens his eyes, blinking through the stream of water, Nick leans in and kisses him. Nick tastes like water, of course, and Chris has to work extra hard to find something that tastes like Nick. 

Nick starts laughing, which Chris takes as a personal insult to his amazing kissing prowess. When he grabs Nick by the dick to up the ante, laughter turns into moans really fast, and it doesn't take long before Nick whimpers, bites Chris's lower lip, and comes. Chris is still licking blood off his lip when Nick props him up against the water-warmed tile, gets down on his knees, and starts sucking. 

Inexplicably, Chris flashes back to the very first blowjob Nick ever gave him. Chris wouldn't let Nick blow him for the longest time at the start of their relationship; he had a very strong, if misguided, idea that a boy who was so new to all things gay-sexual might freak if he got a literal taste of Kirkpatrick Junior. The stupidity finally ended when Nick called him an idiot and pushed him back on the bed. He was clumsy, of course he was, but what he lacked in skill he made up in gusto. And his teeth never once made an appearance, so really, it was all good. 

Since then, time and a lot of practice have made Nick quite a pro at cock-sucking. If Chris didn't enjoy the tongue-swirling teasing so much, he'd be tempted to slide his hands into Nick's wet hair, finally grown back after having been buzzed, and force him to be serious. As it is, however... 

Chris arches his hips and Nick relaxes his throat and takes him in deeper. He swallows and Chris comes with a grunt. He's still trying to gather himself together when Nick turns him around to face the spray and picks up the soap. 

A few more minutes devoted to actual body cleaning and they're done. Nick shuts off the water, draws back the curtain and shakes himself off like a puppy. He steps out of the tub, snags Chris's towel and passes it back to Chris, then grabs his own and wraps it around his waist. 

They shave side by side in front of the mirror, the soothing buzz of Nick's electric shaver drowning out the scraping of Chris's Mach3. They finish at about the same time. Chris smoothes some after-shave over his pinkish face and he's done. Nick, however, feels the need to pamper his young skin, and reaches for the tube of moisturizer that doubles as zit cream. He leans over the counter to get his face closer to the mirror, examining his cheeks critically before flipping open the cap and squeezing some lotion onto his palm. 

Chris moves to stand behind him, trailing his fingers down Nick's sides, firmly enough not to tickle. Nick pushes back with his hips; it's unclear if it's invitation or he just wants Chris to back off. Chris slides one hand around to the front, loosening the knot of Nick's towel and letting it fall – his intentions are clear. 

Nick pretends not to react; he keeps smoothing cream onto his face with very slow strokes. Chris leans over, picks up the towel from where it's wrapped itself around Nick's ankle, folds it over twice, and places it on the floor behind Nick. Nick's done with his lotion now, watching Chris in the mirror. Chris kisses his way down Nick's back, stopping to lick at the tattoos on his shoulder-blades, and the letters dancing down Nick's spine. When Nick opens his mouth, ready to form a question, Chris kneels down behind him, and the question dies before it's voiced. 

Chris places his hands on Nick's butt and spreads him wide. Nick gets the hint and backs away from the counter, then leans his chest onto it. He's hot and still damp from the shower, and his skin smells and tastes a little like soap. Chris drags his tongue from Nick's tailbone down almost to his balls and feels Nick shudder in his grasp. 

Chris does it again, just because; then again, because he likes to tease, too, and payback's a bitch. When Nick's breath come out shuddery and choppy, and his knuckles turn white from squeezing the edge of the counter so tightly, Chris stops playing and gets down to business. He laps all around the tightly-furled muscle, then over it, slicking it with saliva, feeling it loosen under his tongue. Nick is moaning now, small whimpering sounds that go straight to Chris's cock. 

Chris points his tongue and stabs inside, alternating licking with tongue-fucking until he can tell Nick's getting close from his desperate moans. Lowering one hand, Chris drags a blunt nail down Nick's balls and Nick shoves his hips back, almost suffocating Chris with his ass. Chris snort-laughs and redoubles his efforts. 

Nick is humping the counter, grinding down with every stab of Chris's tongue, a litany of "ChrisChrisChris," rolling off his tongue, when there's a knock on the door. And not a polite, _'Excuse me,'_ knock, either, but a pounding that makes the door shake. 

Chris freezes for a moment, but he can't stop his tongue from flickering over Nick's hole, almost automatically. Nick wiggles underneath him, though it's unclear if it's from the effort of keeping mostly still and silent or from the ongoing stimulation. 

More pounding follows. "Nick! Chris! I know at least one of you is in there! C'mon, I need this bathroom." 

"I'm going to kill the little fucker," Nick mutters, face still squashed into the counter. 

Chris gives Nick's delectable ass one final lick and draws back regretfully. "He's your brother; you can't even if you wanted to." 

He raises his voice to call through the door. "What do you need, Aaron? You have your own bathroom. Use it." 

"Chris, some of my shi- stuff's in there! Nick borrowed my hair gel and I need to leave, like, five minutes ago, and God, you've been in there for like, hours! Let me in!" 

"If you're already late, you can wait another five minutes. Then I'll be out and you can have the bathroom." 

"But Chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis!" Aaron's voice rises even higher with his whine, but Chris doesn't care. The little punk interrupted fantastic rimming, and now he's got a boyfriend who's shuddering with an effort not to come. 

"The sooner you go away, Aaron, the sooner you can come back. Scram!" he yells through the door, and is relieved to hear retreating footsteps. 

Chris licks at Nick's ass once more, then sucks two fingers into his mouth and slowly slides them into Nick. He plans on teasing a little, but before he even gets all the way inside, Nick pushes off the counter, grunts, and shoots into the sink. 

Chris puts a palm on Nick's back, gently withdrawing his fingers and standing up, and Nick turns around, curls around and over him, panting in Chris's ear. "Ohgodohgodohgod. Oh, my god. I love you," he whispers, and Chris squeezes him back. 

"Go back to our room before Aaron catches you, baby." Nick kisses his cheek and unlocks the door. There's an angry red stripe cutting across his belly from where he'd been bent over the counter. As an afterthought, he leans down and picks up the towel, knotting it around his waist again. He leaves the bathroom as Chris rinses the last of Nick's spunk down the drain. 

Chris is calmly brushing his teeth when Aaron bursts into the bathroom. He gives Chris a wide-eyed wild look, snags a tube of styling gel from the counter (which Chris is pretty sure is Nick's), and leaves. Chris stares after him a moment, then looks in the mirror. 

Well, no wonder the kid looked at him like that. Chris's hair looks demented, the spikes pointing every which way. His towel is obscene since Nick still owes him one. There are flecks of toothpaste stuck in his beard, and some of the foam around his mouth is tinged pink because his lip has started bleeding again. 

And there's a splatter of spunk on the rim of the sink that he hadn't noticed before. 

And also... "Aaron! Where are you going so early on a Saturday morning, you little punk?" Chris calls out. He hears the door slam in response. 

Aaron's back less than two hours later, sweat-soaked and shiny-faced. As soon as he walks through the door, Chris says, "Yes?" expectantly and Aaron looks at him in confusion. 

"You were..." Chris prompts. 

"Playing basketball? I told you about this last night?" 

Oh. Right. Except that Chris possibly wasn't paying attention because he and Nick had been snuggled up on the couch, and there was something mindless on TV and at this point, it doesn't even matter now that Aaron's back. 

In the evening, the kid's about to disappear again, though this time, as he tells Chris pointedly, it's some sort of a sleep-over. Nick hands over the keys to his car and says, "Have fun." 

When Aaron's in his room changing and packing up his backpack, Chris and Nick are in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner, and Chris asks, "Should we talk to him?" 

Nick blinks lazily and smiles, "What about?" 

Chris shrugs, "I don't know, but. Is it a boys-only sleepover or will there be girls there? Will the host's parents be around or are the kids all on their own?" 

Nick leans back against the counter, the better to distract Chris with, and says patiently, "You're paranoid and crazy. Aaron's had 'The Talk'," he uses Chris's finger-quotes, "when he was eight years old. He started sorta-dating, or whatever, when he was thirteen. He knows about safe sex; he knows about responsible drinking," he holds up his hand when Chris tries to say something about drinking and teenagers, "Chris. Please. He's not a kid." 

Chris takes a deep breath and slides his arms around Nick's waist, cupping his warm, denim-clad ass and squeezing, just because he can. "Okay. Okay. I trust him. If only because you do." 

Apparently, Chris doesn't have to trust Aaron for long, on his own or just because Nick does. A week later, Tony calls with an update that Jane caved, not that there was any doubt that she would, it was just a matter of time. Matter of time and a judge, apparently, since she'd insisted on having a hearing. According to Tony, it took the judge all of three questions to decide that it was in Aaron's best interest to live somewhere away from Jane and closer to his school. 

After Tony's call, Nick and Aaron have a little chat that Chris isn't privy to. He doesn't mind; he's family but in a different way that Nick and Aaron are. In a remarkably mature decision, Aaron makes up his mind to go live with his dad, even though Nick's car and being that much closer to the school make Chris's place a sweeter deal. 

But, as Aaron tells Chris seriously, "You guys are still in honeymoon phase; dad says you need your space." Chris bites his lip so as not to laugh and nods solemnly. Aaron promises to be gone when the term is done; apparently, he's not quite ready to let go of the sweeter deal. Chris ruffles his hair, ignoring the flapping hands trying to fend him off, and says, "Stay as long as you like, kiddo." 

*** 

They're on the couch, JC sprawled out with his head in Lance's lap, and Lance runs his fingers through JC's curls, which he had started growing out when they'd gotten back together. Soft tendrils wrap themselves around Lance's fingers, like they'd missed him. The movie they'd been watching had finished so long ago that the DVD player had already shut itself off, and they're facing a black screen. Lance leans over so that JC could see him, and says softly, "I love you." 

JC raises his eyebrows and smiles. "You," he says, pausing for dramatic effect, "are an utter sap. But I love you anyway." 

Lance quirks his own eyebrow in response, "Thanks. I'm much relieved." He means it lightly, but something must be off in his tone because JC sits up, facing him, and cups Lance's face between his palms. Lance can't help himself; he shifts his head, rubbing his cheek against JC's palm, and JC strokes his face, kisses him lightly on the mouth. 

"Lance. Lance, we didn't break up because we didn't love each other. Failing in love isn't the same as not loving. We messed up, but we realised that we had. And we corrected the mistake, see? It wasn't lack of love; it was too much love, maybe." 

Lance sniffles. He's not crying; nope, not at all; it's just a cold, really. "Okay," he says. "Okay. When did you get so smart, anyway?" 

JC snorts, "I've always been this smart, baby. What I want to know is how come you never noticed." He leans in, attacking Lance's mouth; the kiss is sloppy and intense, and Lance wonders if JC is going to suck his tonsils out through his mouth. When they part to gasp in some much needed air, Lance pants, "I guess the talking portion of the evening is over?" 

"Yes! Now take me to bed," JC exclaims happily. 

Lance does. 

Later, when he collapses onto JC's sweaty back, Lance thinks he can stay like that forever. Except that JC wiggles underneath him, and Lance moves to roll off; he is heavy and JC probably can't breathe, flattened as he is into the mattress under Lance's weight. As soon as he shifts, however, JC reaches back and slaps his hand onto Lance's hip. 

"Don't move." 

"C –" Lance starts. He should get up and get rid of the condom and maybe clean up a bit before they go to sleep. "Aren't you lying on the wet spot?" 

JC mumbles in response but takes his hand back after stroking Lance's hip a few times. Lance slides out and off, slowly because he doesn't want to, but eventually, they're under the blankets, Lance on his back and JC wrapped around him. 

Tomorrow is their 'second six-month anniversary,' as JC likes to call it, and Lance knows that JC has got something planned; JC is romantic like that. For his part, Lance had bought JC an ornate silver cross necklace. JC isn't that religious, but he likes using crosses as a fashion statement, and Lance hopes he likes the necklace. 

The Day dawns and JC's present is a romantic breakfast in bed composed of coffee and toaster waffles (because JC can't cook to save his life) with strawberries. After they've eaten and put the tray away on the desk, there's the actual present of a DVD Lance wanted and ridiculously expensive body scrub/lotion duo that Lance has been coveting for months but wouldn't dare splurge on. And also, there is an envelope. Inside, there's a realtor's business card. 

JC kisses him softly and says, "I want us to move in together." 

Lance blinks, in shocky happiness, and only grins like a fool. He can't actually _say_ anything yet but he hopes he looks happy enough that JC would assume it's a 'yes.' 

JC tells him, "I'd've given you a key, but, like, my place isn't big enough for both of us and I didn't want to look for shared space on my own, you know? Say something?" 

"Something," Lance mumbles, "And also, YES!" Lance is glad they put the tray away because dishes _would_ have been sacrificed when he tackles JC to the bed. He's only on top for about two seconds before JC rolls them over and straddles Lance's hips, pinning Lance's arms to the mattress with his hands. Lance growls softly and arches his back; he loves it when JC gets aggressive in bed. 

*** 

There's a knock on the door of Chris's office and Chris looks up and frowns at it. Dani should be sitting right outside at her desk and normally, she would use the intercom to tell him if someone's there to see him. And people who get to go right past Dani and into his office don't tend to knock. 

Chris opens the door and it's Nick. 

"What's wrong with you?" Chris demands. "Why are you knocking?" 

"Your door was closed and I thought you were busy?" Nick says meekly. 

"Oh, you're not cute," Chris grumbles. 

Nick leans against the table and says, "So, remember, there was this guy I used to know in college, he worked as a bartender at The Wall?" Chris nods because he does remember, vaguely, Nick telling him about some guy. 

"Anyway, when I graduated, we lost touch but he'd managed to find me and emailed me the other day. Apparently, he'd opened his own place not far from here last year. It's sort of a restaurant and club. They serve Spanish and Caribbean food and there's a dance floor for salsa and whatever. And the place had been doing very well so I've been invited to come check the place out with my friends next Friday, and Howie said he'd take care of us." 

"'Take care of us'?" Chris uses the finger-quotes and Nick grabs at his hands, weaves their fingers together. 

"I think it means free food, Dr. Kirkpatrick." 

"Oooooooh. Spanish and Caribbean cuisine and a dance floor? But I don't know how to salsa!" 

"Chris." Nick is giving him puppy eyes. 

"Well, contact your boy Howie and tell him we're coming. We can't refuse an invitation like that. Is his place –" Chris waves his hand around, trying to articulate, but settles on, "friendly?" Not that he and Nick would be holding hands or anything but Lance and JC might want to. 

Nick smirks, "Howie's not a boy, he's, like, your age." Chris aims for the mop of blond hair and Nick ducks from under the slapping hand. "As for the other, I think so? Sweet D doesn't seem the kind to discriminate against anyone." 

Something tickles at the back of Chris's mind. "'Sweet D'? What's this Howie's full name?" 

Nick blinks. "Howie Dorough." 

When Nick leaves, Chris sits down in front of his computer. He intends to work but starts laughing, instead. The world has become a very small place, indeed. Who knew Howie Dorough would open a restaurant not far from his lab? 

Chris cracks his knuckles and fires off an email to the rest of his peons to let them know about a lab outing to a Spanish/Caribbean restaurant that has a dance-floor. A moment later, he gets an angst-filled email from Justin that accuses him of being heartless because Justin's best friend is coming over from Tennessee for a few days, and they're leaving to go hiking that Friday morning. 

Chris writes him back, _'You snooze you lose. Loser,'_ then reopens his manuscript. Time to work on the methods section again. 

***

When Lance walks into Tabu, he loves it immediately. The place is decorated in bright colours – red, orange, yellow, and muted with burnt sienna and black. The lights are turned down low, and there are about ten thousand sconces along the walls, all containing brightly-burning candles. Laughter is ringing from every corner of the large room, in the middle of which is a spiral metal staircase leading upstairs. 

Nick gives his name to a stunning Latina hostess, and she claps her hands, beams at him, and tells him to 'please stay right there.' She whirls around in her little booth, doing something they can't see, then turns back to them. "He'll be right up." 

Howie turns out to be a short man dressed in black pants and a tight black button-down shirt with loose, unbuttoned cuffs, with longish curly hair, darkly tanned skin, and warm brown eyes. He lights up when he sees them by the door, opening up his arms. "Nicky!" he exclaims, drawing Nick into a tight hug and kissing him on both cheeks. "You made it!" 

His eyes sweep over their little group and widen slightly. "Christopher! What a surprise!" Chris is treated to the same greeting as Nick, except with a third kiss smack on the mouth, but there's much man-hugging and clasping in-between. 

Howie shakes their hands murmuring, "Pleased to meet you," and leads them to their table, tucked into a cosy little corner and overlooking the dance floor. The table is round so Chris sits down between Nick and Lance, with JC sitting down on Nick's other side, next to Lance. 

Howie stands next to Nick, a hand on Nick's shoulder, petting him absently, and says with wonder in his voice, "This is so strange. You know, when friends from your various circles of friends wind up knowing each other. Nicky, how did you wind up in Chris's lab?" 

Lance wonders how they all know each other. He also wonders when the world has become so small. 

Nick shrugs, "He was looking for a technician and I applied and got the job?" 

Howie laughs, "Oh, I'll bet you did; like he could resist you!" and immediately slaps a hand to his mouth. "Shit," he mumbles, lowering his hand. "Nicky, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... Oh crap, and Chris is your boss and I just totally outed him." Shoulders drooping, he declares, "I suck. I'm sorry." 

Lance doesn't know what to do; he's torn between laughter (because the situation _is_ funny) and discomfort, because Howie looks so upset. Nick, however, seems to know what to do. 

"Hey, Howie. Howie!" When Howie looks at him, Nick says, "Okay, a little life update. Chris? My boyfriend. Lance? Chris's ex-boyfriend. JC? Lance's boyfriend. Okay? We good?" 

Howie gives Lance and JC a considering look, long enough to make Lance feel the heat creeping up his neck, then turns a happy smile on Nick, "Nicky! I'm so hap – Wait," he narrows his eyes at Nick. "You were straight," he says accusingly. 

"I like Chris," Nick declares happily, sounding all of five years old. 

Howie ruffles Nick's hair, blithely ignoring Nick's flailing hands, and says, "All right. If you trust me with your orders, I'll go into the kitchen to make sure you fellas are taken care of. In the meantime, a pitcher of sangria for the table? And Nickolas, may I see your ID please?" 

Nick grumbles. Howie ignores him. Nick says in a whiny voice, "Howie! You used to bartend at The Wall. You know my birthday!" Howie doesn't budge. Nick reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his license. He grudgingly hands it over to Howie and mutters, "All right, go ahead, laugh." 

Howie does. Lance hasn't ever seen Nick's license, but by the sound of Howie's laughter, he guesses the photograph is especially horrendous. Chris pets Nick on the shoulder and says, "There, there, honey, only three more years and you can get it renewed and actually go in this time and get a new picture taken." Nick drops his head on the table and pretends to cry. 

A young, cute waiter brings out a tray full of tapas, small plates, and their water glasses. When he comes back to clear their plates and bring them another pitcher of sangria and ask if they're sure they don't want any wine or anything else to drink, he informs them that due to paella cooking time, it'll be at least half-hour before their entrées will arrive and in the meantime, they're welcome to take advantage of sangria and the dance floor. 

Lance looks over the dance floor, where a couple is swaying to the rhythm of salsa – or samba – or some other Spanish dance that Lance doesn't know anything about, and thinks maybe not. He wouldn't ever be able to dance like that. He takes another sip of his sangria, managing to get a chunk of melon and two grapes into his mouth, and munches happily. JC scoots closer and drapes himself over Lance's back like a limpet, arms clasped on Lance's chest. He rests his head on Lance's shoulder and watches the dancing couple through slitted eyes. He looks languid and sleepy, when Lance glances back at him over his shoulder, like a resting cat, maybe. Lance tips his head back and reaches up and over to ruffle his fingers through JC's hair. 

Suddenly, a shadow falls over the table and a low, raspy voice says dryly, "Fancy meeting you here." 

Lance raises his head and it's AJ. AJ's street clothes don't differ from his work clothes very much. He's still wearing all black, but instead of layered t-shirts, he's wearing a sheer loose button-down shirt. His boots seem to be of the cowboy and not Doc Marten variety, and instead of leather, his bracelets are chunky chain-like silver. His black nails are fashionably chipped, and... Is that eyeliner? Lance squints but it's hard to tell in the hazy twilight of the restaurant. 

AJ's eyes sweep over Lance's JC-wear, but he doesn't even blink. "I guess that's the boyfriend you mentioned?" he says wryly. 

Lance smiles, "AJ, you've met JC. JC, you know AJ." 

AJ grins, "You never said, man. You were right there, sharing space with your boyfriend, and you never said that the boyfriend you kept bringing up is JC. That's not cool. No more backrubs for you." 

JC raises his head and says, "There were backrubs? Why haven't I gotten any?" 

Lance looks back at JC, "You gotta earn 'em, darlin'." Then he turns to smirking AJ, "What are you doing here?" 

"Howie? The owner of this place? Is an old friend of mine. We've known each other, shit, almost twenty years. So, I come here to eat his food. Why aren't you dancing?" 

"Oh. I um..." Lance stutters. "I don't dance, really." 

"What about your pretty boyfriend? I want someone to fire up the dance floor with." 

Lance feels JC sitting up. "I could dance, why not?" JC says, a smile in his voice. "Would that earn me a backrub?" His voice sounds naïve, but his sly smile is anything but. 

AJ plucks JC's hand off Lance's chest and pulls him gracefully to his feet. When they get to the dance floor and start – writhing, no other word for it – to the music, it looks very little like dance and a lot like vertical fucking with the clothes on. Lance finds himself blinking a lot. A middle-aged woman at the corner table claps a hand to her mouth, though whether in shock or in glee is impossible to tell. 

To distract himself, he scoots closer to Chris and they start talking science. By the time AJ and JC come back, Lance is busy explaining to Chris why his theoretical cytokine pathway won't work. Nick, bored with the science talk of the molecular kind that isn't quite his area of expertise, had wondered off somewhere, so AJ deposits JC into Nick's chair, and sits in JC's to tell Lance, "Your boy can dance." 

Lance looks over at JC and smiles proudly, "And he can sing, too. And do surgery. And he knows science. A true Renaissance man. And all mine." He says it with a shark-like smile and a raised eyebrow. 

AJ raises his hands in a universal, 'I'm backing off now' sign, "Hey, just a compliment." 

And that is the moment that Nick chooses to return. Considering Nick's reluctance to come out to AJ, Lance wonders how to warn Nick of AJ's presence, but there's no way to do it without AJ noticing. Lance observes in silence as Nick approaches Chris's chair from behind, wrapping his arms around Chris's shoulders and planting a kiss on Chris's lips when Chris turns his head back to see who's hugging him. 

Lance looks at AJ from the corner of his eye, and AJ's jaw had dropped. Lance glances at JC, over AJ's head, and they both quietly snicker. Chris, however, who is staring at Nick, in the direction opposite of AJ, says, "AJ, close your mouth, you'll catch flies." 

"Well, damn," AJ drawls, "I didn't know I'd been working in the Lab of Love all this time. Nobody had seen fit to tell me." He affects a pout that would've made Nick and Justin both envious, and that seems to be that. 

When they get home that night, Lance barely has time to close the door behind them before JC pushes him against it and attacks his mouth with his lips. When they part, panting, Lance brushes a sweaty strand of hair off JC's forehead and asks, "What brought that on?" 

"You," JC says and licks his lips. Lance finds himself doing the same, almost unconsciously imitating. "I hadn't realised you think so highly of me. Renaissance man, huh?" 

"You are," Lance whispers against JC's lips and closes the distance for another kiss. JC pulls back, so that he could nip and nibble at Lance's mouth, kisses getting playful and teasing. Lance puts his fingers through JC's belt-loops and pulls him closer, not that JC actually _can_ get that much closer; they're already pressed together chest to knees. 

When JC pulls back, Lance makes a small noise of protest and tries to follow him but JC cups his cheek in one hand to get him to focus. 

When Lance finally manages to pay attention, JC says, "You didn't mind me dancing with AJ, did you? Because I thought you wouldn't but then you got that look on your face and I'm not sure anymore." 

Lance nips at JC's thumb that's slowly tracing his lower lip, and says, "I'd be hard-pressed to call it dancing, darlin'. More like clothed fucking. But no, I don't mind; I know whom you go home with." 

It's been a long time since Lance had been fucked against a vertical surface, but JC reminds him how much he loves it. He clutches at JC's shoulders when he comes, and slams his head against the door. He's very happily wrung out by the time they crawl into bed. 

*** 

Chris is informed, by Lance, that when he and JC finally unpack the last box and crate, there will be a house-warming party to celebrate. And, because Lance is _that_ kind of person, all the invitations arrive via email, Evites showing up in their inboxes, requiring an RSVP. Chris doesn't open his for a while because he's afraid it's spam but when he finally does, he cracks up because, well, that's just like Lance. For a moment, he considers calling Lance into his office to comment but then, he realises Lance probably has better things to do now, though not, Chris squints, at 10:03am when the email had been sent. Figures. 

The day of the party arrives and, using the back roads and shortcuts, it's only a twenty-minute walk from Chris's place to Lance and JC's. When Nick knocks, the door is flung open by a very cheery and pink-cheeked Lance, who's holding his arms wide open, a bottle of beer in each hand. 

"Friends!" He exclaims. "Welcome, friends! Here, have a drink!" 

Chris takes the bottles, a millisecond before Lance drops them, and tells Nick, ignoring the fact that Lance is still there, "Lance must've been responsible for planning so JC's playing the 'sober' host." 

Lance throws his arms around their waists and propels them into the living room. Chris sees some familiar faces and some not, probably friends of JC's or Lance's. Joey has brought his girlfriend Kelly, whom Chris had met only once before, though Chris had heard of her even way back when he and Lance were whatevers. As far as he understands, Joey's always dated Kelly unless he feels the urge to turn to dick, whereupon he dumps Kelly for a few months, gets the urge out of his system, and comes back to her. Chris isn't sure why she keeps taking him back, but it's not any of his business. And anyway, this time around it's different because last time Joey dumped her, he'd left her barefoot and pregnant, and Kelly had told him that either he comes back for a long time or he doesn't at all. It's easy to guess which Joey had picked, even without seeing him with his arm around his deeply pregnant girlfriend; loud, cheerful, and looking very happy. 

Tony pops in for all of thirty minutes, to hand over his present, have a drink with Nick and Chris, dirty-dance with JC, kiss Lance on the cheek and leave to prep for some case or other that simply can't wait. AJ comes by to drop off his present and sheepishly admit he can't stay because he's scared of all the free-flowing booze. JC persuades him to stay for one dance, though, and they manage a parody of something tango-like that has everyone clapping and cheering on. 

When he leaves, JC approaches Lance, who is talking to Chris, and wraps his arms over Lance's shoulders, clasping them loosely over Lance's breastbone. Without missing a beat, Lance brings up his own hand to put over JC's and Chris melts, because Lance is totally drunk, chattering about something that makes no sense whatsoever, but he automatically reacts to his boyfriend's affections. 

JC listens for a moment, lips curved in an amused smile because however incoherent he can be, even he can't translate Lance's babbling into normal English, and softly kisses Lance's flushed cheek. That seems to break Lance's incomprehensible stream-of-consciousness chatter, and he turns his face to JC's, kissing his way along JC's jawbone to his mouth. 

"It's like I'm not even here," Chris declares softly to anyone who can hear him, because there they are, kissing hungrily right in front of him and completely ignoring him. He turns away, intent on finding his own boyfriend and retaliating in kind, but Nick is talking animatedly to some friend of Lance's named Jesse, if Chris remembers correctly, and looking like he's having too much fun to be interrupted. So, Chris does the only thing he can – he coughs, loudly and obnoxiously, his smile widening when he's met with two befuddled faces, looking confused at the interruption. 

"Thanks for the show, boys," he says, "If I'm ever in need of private porn, I know whom to call." He flickers his eyes down, but not enough to see anything; he _really_ doesn't need to see _anything._ When he looks back up, both Lance and JC stick their tongues out at him and leave for the far side of the room with their arms around each other. 

A few hours into the party, Nick and JC are making fools of themselves on the makeshift dance floor (created by pushing all furniture from the centre of the room to the perimeter), writhing to the music that Chris would be hard-pressed to call dance-worthy. Lance is talking to Joey and Kelly, gesturing wildly with his hands and coming very close to smacking Joey in the face. Chris chuckles when Joey calmly ducks and gently catches Lance's wrist in his hand lowering it to Lance's side; as soon as he lets go, the hand is back in motion. 

Chris realises that the few straight people attending have all brought their other halves and Justin, flying solo, has been assumed to be gay, by default. Chris watches Justin shake his head at yet another one of Lance's friends, taking the guy's hand off his ass more politely than Chris would've, and making his way to the loveseat that Chris had appropriated for his own. 

Justin plops down and says sulkily, "JC's and Lance's friends all suck." His Southern accent is back full-force; he'd only come back yesterday from a week-long family visit in Tennessee. 

Chris says, "And for the most part, they swallow. It's your loss you're not interested." 

Justin coughs, then tries turning it into a laugh, but doesn't say anything so Chris does, "What does your mama think about you working with four queers?" 

Justin frowns, "What does yours?" When Chris laughs, Justin clarifies, "About a straight boy working with four queers, I mean." 

Chris leans over the arm, reaching into a small cooler he'd stolen off one of the tables. He'd turned it into his private stash, because he's lazy and doesn't feel like getting up to refresh his drinks, but now, most of the bottles are gone; only a beer and a hard cider remain. He hands the cider to Justin. 

"Hey! I'm old enough to drink real beer!" Timberlake whines predictably and Chris shrugs. 

"There's only one left and it's mine. Feel free to get your own." Justin twists the top off his bottle in response, just like Chris thought. 

"Well?" Justin asks, taking a large drink. 

"Well what? Oh. What my mom thinks. Well, she thinks that we need to find you a nice boy who'll show you the joys of gay loving and make you leave your silly straight ways behind." 

There's something incredibly satisfying in watching Justin choke on his drink, sputter, and do a spit-take worthy of a sitcom. After Justin makes a valiant attempt at cleaning off his face, Chris adds, "We've even lined up a boy for you. You like AJ, don't you?" 

Justin looks genuinely worried when he says, "Chris, no. I mean. Not that I'm flattered and all but really, I'm not. I mean, I'm really really not." 

Chris pats his shoulder, pseudo-sympathetically, "If you're not, why would you go talking to my boyfriend about it? What are we supposed to think when you ask a formerly straight guy why he'd turn gay all of a sudden?" 

Justin blushes, his eyes darting over and beyond Chris's head. "I... " 

Chris decides to take pity on him and says, "Lance ever tell you how he'd come out to his parents? It's a fascinating story." 

Justin looks interested enough, so Chris says, "Make yourself comfortable." He follows his own advice, turning to face Justin, and starts, "This was ages and ages ago, when Lance was a fresh-faced, blond-tipped sophomore in college, and I was a guest-lecturer for his C&M bio class. Lance was nice enough to wait until after my last lecture to jump me, and a few weeks later, we went to visit his parents over the long weekend, together." 

Chris looks up to gauge Justin's reaction. Thanks to a very loud argument at the lab with Nick, several months ago, there are very few people in the building now who don't know that Lance and Chris had used to fuck. This is the first time that Chris is talking openly about it though, and while it does occur to him that it's probably not the kind of story the kid needs to hear from his boss, Chris thinks he might as well. 

They need to bring Justin into their weird little family. JC and Lance have each other, Chris has Nick and history with Lance, and Justin is kind of on the outside, even though he'd sort of known Nick, though several degrees of separation, when he'd been applying for the job. Time to bring him into the inner sanctum. 

Justin pokes Chris to continue, so he does, "So we arrive on the Basses' doorstep, and when Lance's mama, Diane, opens the door, he just introduces me as a friend from college. Now, Lance's parents are very nice, Southern Baptist folk, very gentle, soft-spoken, and polite. So I totally approved of Lance not giving his mama a heart attack by saying that I used to be his professor and such. That night, we order Chinese take-out for dinner and sit there, the four of us eating, when Lance takes a sip of water, and says, 'Mama, Daddy, I know you're always complaining that I never bring any girls home, but well, that isn't ever really going to happen. So instead, I brought a boy home for all y'all to meet'." 

Chris pauses for dramatic effect, but he can't continue even if he wanted to; Justin's laughing so hard he can barely breathe, fanning his red face with his free hand and sliding down the couch. Chris pulls him up and takes his bottle away so that Justin could wipe his face. 

"Oh my Lord," Justin says except it sounds like _Aw mah Lawd_. "With such a flair for dramatics, did they never suspect?" 

Chris shrugs. He'd known as soon as he'd seen Lance in class, sitting there in the front row of the auditorium, his notebook and three differently-coloured pens laid out on his pull-out desk. But parents often don't see what they don't wish to see, so who knows. 

Justin pokes Chris's thigh with his foot. "How did Lance's parents react?" 

"Well, his father put down his fork and looked at Lance's mom. Diane gulped half a glass of plum wine and said, 'James Lance Bass. Next time you bring a boy home, warn your mama; I would've served a nice dinner and actually cooked instead of ordering takeout'." 

Justin says, "Huh." 

"You know, I'm certain that at some point during that weekend, they did talk for real; it would've been shitty if Lance hadn't talked to them privately." 

"Yes, we sat down and had the shortened version of The Talk, though I did omit a lot of things I thought mama shouldn't have to know about," Lance's deep voice, languid with alcohol, breaks in and Chris looks up. 

"Been gossiping about me, Kirkpatrick?" 

"Naw," Chris beams up at him and Lance's perfect eyebrow arches up. "Just telling the kid here your coming out story. It's great party small-talk." 

Lance snorts but doesn't say anything. Just as Chris thinks that he'd gotten off scot-free, though, Lance says, "I do suppose it's better than _your_ coming out story, when Beverly wondered why you kept bringing girls home for her to meet when clearly they were the wrong gender for you." 

Chris chuckles, "Lance Lance Lance. You were in diapers when I came out to my mom. You can't possibly know how it happened." Turning to Justin, he adds, "In case you were wondering, that's totally not true. I was absolutely comfortable with my sexuality, right from the start." 

Lance interjects, "It just took him a while to realise that he was trying to get comfortable with the wrong sexuality." 

Chris watches Justin looking at them like at a tennis match, finally settling for, "Are you guys for real?" 

Chris lifts an arm and plants his hand firmly on Lance's hip, pushing him away. "Leave, Bass. I have more stories to tell and you can't be around." 

*** 

When Lance opens his eyes the morning after the party, he's alone, though it's not surprising considering JC hadn't been drinking much. Lance pats JC's pillow, stretches until his toes tingle, and rolls out of bed. A quick shower and tooth-brushing and he pulls on a pair of sweatpants over his bare ass and paddles into the living room where two clipboards with crosswords are already set up, and his better half is sitting cross-legged on the couch, wearing a sweet smile and a pair of thin cotton pyjama pants. 

This is tradition, this Sunday morning crossword-solving thing. They print them off the internet, usually the same paper, and do them all in a row, until they get tired, helping each other out when stuck. Just because today they have to clean up the mess from last night's party doesn't mean they get to skip the crosswords. 

Lance walks over and plants a soft kiss on JC's mouth. It's meant to be quick but JC holds him to it, sliding a hand up Lance's shoulder to his nape, licking at his lips and asking to be let in. Lance smiles because that's what always happens; he tries for quick and sweet and JC turns it deep and meaningful. 

When JC finally relinquishes his hold on Lance, they're both panting. Lance licks JC's taste off his lips and murmurs, "Coffee?" 

There are two mugs set on coasters on the low table by the couch. Lance's is black and sweet, JC's light and bitter. Lance leans over to pick up the mug and take a long swallow, then sets it back and settles into the corner of the couch. This is also part of tradition. Lance stretches one leg along the length of the couch and plants the other one on the floor, and JC settles between his thighs, his back to Lance's chest. Lance kisses a bare shoulder-blade closest to him, breathing in the scent of clean skin with a hint of raspberry shower gel underneath. 

JC rolls his shoulder invitingly, and Lance does it again, tracing the warm flesh with the tip of his tongue, rubbing his stubbled cheek over soft skin. JC sighs, waits until Lance lifts his mouth off his shoulder and leans forward to get the clipboards. He places Lance's on his thigh, keeping his own in his lap. It's another part of tradition: same crossword, two copies of. They do them separately and help each other when stuck. 

Lance picks up his clipboard and puts it on the wide arm of the couch, within easy reach. The first several clues are easy and he pencils them in quickly. Sometimes, crosswords are a welcome distraction from whatever problems, personal and work-related, that had plagued them through the week. Other times, other things attract Lance's attention, like today. 

Lance can feel the heat of JC's skin through two thin layers of cotton between them and he can't help it, he's half-hard just from their contact. It's not like he wants to start anything because his relationship with JC isn't based on sex alone and he does want to finish the crossword but JC's right there, warm and inviting, and Lance can't help himself. 

Lance slides his left hand around JC's waist, strokes his belly with his fingertips. JC sighs but doesn't break his concentration. Lance runs his fingers over the soft hairs of JC's treasure trail, yet again let grow free and unwaxed, and JC shifts, allowing Lance's hand better access, though Lance stops at the waistband of the pyjamas. 

JC tilts his head back and rests it on Lance's shoulder. He kisses Lance's cheek then looks over at Lance's crossword. 

"You got 38-down wrong," he says. 

Lance smiles, "What if _you_ got it wrong and I got it right? It fits." 

JC shrugs and Lance feels JC's shoulders rub against his chest as he does. "It's possible but you didn't get any of the cross clues so you can't be sure if you're right. And I got four out of five of them and they all fit. So." 

"Okay," Lance says agreeably and, to show how agreeable he is, he leans closer and nibbles on the tip of JC's ear. JC makes a noise, half-moan and half-sigh, and stretches his neck, shifting closer. Lance kisses his way down the rim of JC's ear, down the corded muscle of his neck, and pushes JC's head forward, the better to kiss along his shoulder. 

"Lance," JC breathes out, "Lance, no, wait –" the rest of his sentence trails off on a moan because Lance decides to put a hickey on JC's neck and proceeds to do just so, clamping his teeth around the thick muscle and sucking. 

JC makes a small needy noise, and over the length of his tanned chest, Lance can see JC's erection tenting the thin cotton, a wet spot spreading in the pale fabric of the pants. He slides his hand in JC's pants and JC wiggles closer until he's so pressed up against Lance that every time he gasps or takes in a breath, Lance's dick rubs up against JC's lower back. 

That pretty much seals both of their fates. A few minutes later, they're both happily spent and incredibly sticky, and Lance mentally thanks JC's mother, yet again, for buying them a washable couch. 

JC reaches back and pushes wet hair back off Lance's sweaty forehead. "So much for the crosswords." 

"We can still do them," Lance protests because you just don't fuck with tradition. 

"Mmmmm," JC agrees. "After the shower. And a nap. And brunch?" 

Lance takes his hand out of JC's pants and licks it clean. "I just ate, thanks," he says and, just as he'd expected, JC slaps his chest lightly. 

"In that case, loverboy, you get to feed me," JC declares, then belies his announcement by snuggling deeper into Lance's embrace. 

"Why don't we go to the pool afterwards?" Lance suggests. The sun is hot and soon, the heat will be oppressive despite the cool breeze currently blowing through the open windows. A nice swim would be a welcome reprieve from the scorching heat. 

When they'd started looking for a place, they thought to avoid condo fees by renting in a large house or an apartment building, but this place attracted them with its indoor pool inside a gym/fitness complex and a large outdoor pool, and they'd been sold on it immediately. 

"Okay," JC mumbles and closes his eyes. It's nap time. 

*** 

Living with Nick, Chris finds, is an experience. And not only because Nick is a slob where clothes are concerned; Chris can't understand how someone who's so anal about washing his dirty dishes right after use, even if it's a single glass, can be so sloppy by letting his clothes lie all around the place, just where he'd removed them. 

Living with Nick means getting home even before him, some days, because Nick's busy with something or other, and then having Nick come home and flop on the bed, whining about his hard day. Chris pulls off his shirt and gives him backrubs, and Nick falls asleep, his shoes still on, before dinnertime and sleeps through the night, while Chris eats dinner, catches up with the news, takes a shower and slides into their bed. In the morning, they'd both be up with the alarm, and Nick – bright-eyed and relaxed, ready to take on the world. 

One day, when Nick's so full of energy, and Chris isn't at his best, Chris gets Nick to teach Justin how to do immunoprecipitation. With twenty of JC's samples. Nick glares at him, and Justin would, too, if he knew what he'd been signed up for, but Chris just goes into his office and closes the door. Science had rejected his manuscript, and Chris is in no mood to deal with anyone. Living with Nick means learning how to be two people at once – boss at work, lover at home. It means learning to leave work at work, in the lab, and not bring it home. 

Once, Chris gets home late after a safety meeting (and if he never has to go to one of those again, it'll be too soon) to find a familiar figure on the living-room couch, curled up miserably and clutching at his belly. The pose is familiar; so is the figure. Except that it's a strange pose for Nick to be in. 

"Honey," Chris says cautiously, approaching the couch, "are you having your period?" 

"Fuck you," Nick grinds out with enough fervour to allay some of Chris's worries. 

"Okay, what happened?" Chris asks and sits down gingerly on the edge of the couch and lifts Nick's t-shirt to rub soothing circles on his belly. Nick whimpers but turns into the touch. 

"You know how you can eat some food as a teenager and it's the greatest idea ever but not so much at twenty-five?" 

"You overdosed on sweets, didn't you?" 

Nick nods desolately. "Cupcakes. A college friend was in the area, and we went out for coffee at this great little bakery place and. Yeah." 

"My poor baby," Chris commiserates, leaning over to kiss Nick's stomach. Chris's first thought is to call his mom and ask her what he should do. Then, he reminds himself that he's got an MD and knows, theoretically, how to deal with things like that, and says, "I'll go make you ginger tea, okay?" 

Nick nods and curls back into himself when Chris gets up. Chris waits until he's out of hearing range to chuckle about occasional stupidity of young ones. 

Several days later, they all invade Chris's large office to have a lab meeting. Chris tries to schedule these at least once in a while because even though the lab is small and they all know, to a degree, what's going on with each other's research, it's always nice to have a cohesive presentation that ties all the little experiments together in a coherent manner. 

JC had already hooked up his laptop to the projector, and when Chris glances at the slide on the screen, he says, "JC, is there a lunch break scheduled in there?" JC's research update looks massive – five separate topics, colour-coded, are enumerated in neat little boxes. 

JC looks up, glancing absently at the screen, and continues fiddling with his computer, "Nah, it's not that much. I'm pretty done with all of these and wanted to give brief overviews of what had been done, how hypotheses were formulated and proven, and stuff. No lengthy details; just theories and results." 

"Good," Chris says, "Because I have several things on the agenda and would prefer we not stay in here till next week." 

"That would be bad," Justin pipes in agreeably, "I have plans for this weekend." 

JC, as promised, gets through his summaries quickly and painlessly. His body of work in the past mere two years is fairly astounding. Chris would love to attribute the quantity and quality of the results to his magnificent staff but he knows that mostly, the laurels rest on JC himself. JC's presentation is followed by stunned silence. 

Finally, Justin says, "Wow." And that pretty much sums it up. 

Chris says, "You've got at least six manuscripts in there. Maybe more if you play your cards right." 

JC blushes from praise, and they move onto other things on the agenda, such as the Annual Research Dinner, organised by Johnny, the VP of Research. 

"As most of you know, it's this annual semi-formal dinner thing. We're all allowed to bring 'guests,' though for obvious reasons, Nick and I can't really go together. JC and Lance could, though, so if you guys want to, you're more than welcome to." Last year, neither JC nor Lance had shown up; they'd been broken up and were trying to minimize the time spent in each other's company. 

JC says, "Why don't we all go stag? If Justin doesn't mind." 

Justin says evilly, "It could be a joke. Chris couldn't get a date so we're all sympathising with him and going stag as well." 

Chris narrows his eyes at the kid, "Careful, child. I'm still your boss and I _know_ how much you love immunoprecipitation." 

Justin meeps and says meekly, "Please forget I said anything." 

In the end, though, they go with JC's suggestion and show up alone for the event. Unlike previous years, when clinical research groups hadn't been invited, this year both sides of research community are represented. Chris sits down at their table and looks around. JC is talking to a shortish man with curly blond hair, both of them excitedly animated. Lance is across the room greeting Kevin Richardson's wife, and AJ is fidgeting on Chris's left, doubtlessly made uncomfortable by open bar. 

And Nick, sitting on Chris's right, is... staring at a very tall and well-endowed woman in a long, revealing dress, slit from mid-thigh to ankle. She's holding a wine glass in her elegant, unadorned fingers and Nick can't seem to get his eyes off her. It makes Chris sad, the idea that Nick might've just been biding his time until the right woman came along. 

Chris elbows Nick and says, "Why don't you go talk to her?" 

Nick slowly refocuses on Chris and asks, "Who?" 

Chris tilts his head in the direction of the woman and says, "Doctor Whoever that you've been ogling." 

Nick opens his mouth, then closes without saying anything. Then, he tries again, "Chris. No. I mean, look. She's, like, an Amazon. She's tall and built like a model, with legs up to there. I mean, if you weren't so paranoid, _you_ would've been staring out of sheer fascination." 

Chris tells him in a low voice, "There's nothing wrong with finding a woman attractive, Nick. I mean, after all, you _are_ mostly straight." 

Nick makes a face and says heatedly, albeit trying to keep his voice low, "The fuck got into you, Kirkpatrick? Are you on crack? I'm with _you_ and that, by definition, makes me not straight. God, I was just looking. She's just... I mean, god, look at her! She's this... like, you can't help but look. But I don't _want_ her, because I'm with you. I mean... God!" Nick throws up his hands in frustration and turns in his seat, staring beyond Chris's shoulder. 

Chris turns to look where Nick's staring and Nick hisses, "Hey, look, AJ's hot. AJ turns me on. If I have sex with AJ, would you get it through your thick skull that this isn't an experiment for me? What got into you, you freak?" 

AJ's already getting up, hands up. "Whoa, whoa. Please leave me out of this. I don't sleep with cheaters." 

Chris smiles, for the first time this evening, "Relax, AJ. Nobody's going to make you sleep with Nick. Nobody's going to let you, even if you wanted to." AJ gives him a wide-eyed stare and leaves the table, making a beeline for JC and the blond doctor, who are the furthest away from the bar. 

Chris turns to Nick and smiles at him gently, "Now look what you've done; you scared AJ away." 

Nick doesn't say anything, just sits there sulking, staring at his shoes. Chris tries again, "Hey, Kevin's trying to make people like him. Look at his shirt!" Dr. Richardson does, in fact, have a black t-shirt underneath his suit jacket that proclaims, in loud red letters, that he's _easy to get along with once everyone learns to worship_ him. 

Nick doesn't even glance the way Chris is pointing. 

Chris tries one last time, "Look. I'm sorry. I am old and paranoid and I overreacted." At that, Nick looks up at him and says levelly, "We'll talk, okay? Tonight, after this?" 

Chris winks at him, "After the make-up sex. Yeah." 

Nick says, "Okay. Now let's hit the buffet; I'm hungry!" 

*** 

JC walks into the room just as Lance submits their last bill payment, so Lance turns off the monitor and turns to face JC, who sits down on the couch, pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around them. He's trying to look small and he seems very uncomfortable, and Lance feels a small ball of dread start forming in the pit of his stomach. 

"Lance, I want to talk to you," JC says, avoiding Lance's eyes. 

Lance stands up, rubbing his suddenly-sweaty palms over his sweatpants. "Are you... are you breaking up with me?" he forces out, because if that's the case, he'd rather not prolong the agony. 

"What? No!" JC looks and sounds so appalled at the idea that Lance almost feels guilty. Almost, because it's not like it's unprecedented; after all, they had broken up once. "Stupid boy," JC mutters, and Lance sits down next to him, pulling at his arms until JC unwraps his tangle of limbs and is sitting more comfortably. 

"What would you have done if I were?" JC asks. 

"Left to go looking for rope; we're bound to have some somewhere," Lance says cheekily, because relief is still making his hands tremble slightly. 

"Oh, honey," JC sighs and wraps an arm around Lance's shoulder, rubbing lightly. "I want to leave the lab." 

At first, JC's words don't even register, and Lance stares at him with a stupid smile still on his face. The smile slides off as soon as the words hit home, and Lance replaces it with a frown. 

"Uh. You don't like working with Chris anymore? Did you have a fight with someone?" 

"Lance!" JC's laughs, "I'm not a kid. Come on!" 

Lance turns to face JC and tells him, "I don't understand." He really doesn't; working with four friends is like a dream come true for him. 

"I uh... " JC winces, "I want to go back to medicine. I want to do clinical research." 

"You what?" Lance shrieks milliseconds before he realises that his voice shouldn't be able to get that high. 

JC repeats himself. "And it's not like I'll start at square one. I've gone through my residency; it still counts even if I'd stopped practicing for two years. They'll probably make me do some sort of accelerated training program, but they can't give me the same brutal hours that residents get. I was talking to Brian Littrell at Research Dinner. He works in cardiology at Children's Hospital and is also involved in some cardiovascular clinical trials over at Central. Gene therapy, stem cell therapy; it all sounds fascinating and I want to be a part of it." 

Lance nods. He doesn't have to like JC going back to medicine but it's what JC wants to do and what makes JC happy. Besides, JC's done with all his research projects in the lab, so now's the right time to leave, or else begin a new series of projects. 

Lance says, "Nick is leaving, too. He and Chris talked the night of the Research Dinner, apparently, and Chris told me. I think the duality of their relationship is taking its toll on them, so Nick's looking at some biotech companies in the area. It'll be weird in the lab without you guys." 

"Maybe Chris will hire new people. Maybe he'll finally give in and join his lab with Kevin's." 

"Maybe," Lance agrees quietly. Then, he adds in a stubborn voice, "I want a puppy. If I'm losing you, I want a puppy." 

"Honey, you're not losing me, and can we give this whole togetherness apart some time before we start thinking about a family?" JC's tone is light and teasing, and Lance wraps his arms around JC's neck and falls back onto the couch, pulling JC with him. In-between kisses, he says, "Don't want to talk anymore. Wanna make out." 

JC pulls away and sits up. It's not the best position for a serious conversation; he is straddling Lance's hips, which Lance keeps lifting up if only to tease, but the movement makes both of their erections, unrestrained within loose domestic clothing, bounce in a most distracting way. Lance actually reaches out and plants his palm on JC's crotch to stop his dick from bobbing, and JC grunts and grabs for Lance's hand, removing it off his body. 

It takes them a couple of minutes to pull their brains together and stop distracting and being distracted by lust. JC scoots back so that he's sitting on Lance's legs. 

Lance tells him, "If you tell me you want to work in the ER, I'm breaking up with you. And not sharing custody of our future puppy." 

"Lance. You know that I have to go back to surgery. It's what I'm trained in and what I'd wanted and still want to do." 

"No ER?" Lance presses. 

"No ER. And no picking up extra shifts." 

"Okay," Lance says sulkily, because JC working in another lab and JC working at a hospital are totally different things; Lance has no chance of bumping into JC professionally if he goes back to clinical medicine. 

JC leans forward until he's crouched over Lance on hands and knees, and shifts until his face is right above Lance's. 

"Still want to make out, baby?" 

"No," Lance pouts and waits for JC's reaction. When JC shows appropriate disappointment, Lance adds, "Wanna have sex now. Nownownow." 

JC laughs and lowers himself on top of Lance, his weight pressing Lance deeper into the couch cushions. Lance sighs and wantonly spreads his legs, wordlessly letting JC know that he's going to do all the work. Judging from JC's moan that escapes when their crotches come into close and intimate contact with each other, he's not going to mind. 

Lance had learnt to keep every room of their apartment stocked with supplies. JC's libido is unpredictable, and Lance doesn't like being caught unprepared. While JC reaches into the top drawer of the desk to grab supplies, Lance gives in and helps with their clothing, then lies back and lets JC make amends. 

After, when their breath has finally calmed down and they're spooning, shivering slightly due to drying sweat, JC says, "I am going to talk to Chris tomorrow." 

"Mmmm," Lance says, wiggling closer to JC, if only to steal some of his body heat. He doesn't want to get up but they need to shower and – 

"Shit! JC, baby, we need to go shopping today and if we don't go now, the stores will be overrun by the pre-holiday crowd who'll empty the shelves." 

JC makes a protesting mewling sound, so Lance strokes his side soothingly. "Come on, baby, I know you hate shopping but don't make me go alone, come on, come on!" 

JC rolls over, presses his mouth to Lance's shoulder, muttering something as his lips move over chilled skin. It's almost enough to make Lance forget about shopping. Almost but not quite. 

Half an hour later, they're browsing the produce in the local supermarket. Lance wanders over to the health food section and picks up a package of tofu. "Hey, JC? How do you feel about tofu?" 

JC looks up from tomatoes and makes a face, "Not really a fan. Why?" 

Lance shrugs, still staring at the plastic container in his hand. "It's healthy and good for you?" 

JC looks at him, considering. "Sure, why not. As long as _you_ cook it." 

Lance drops the tofu into his shopping cart and mutters, "I'm ready to try something different."

**Author's Note:**

> With much thanks to [jewelianna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jewelianna88/%22) for _over-the-phone_ last-minute beta.


End file.
